


The Quality of Mercy

by LookingForHell



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Distorted ones anyway, Gen, Lobotomy, Loki Needs a Hug, Moral Dilemmas, Second Chances, That's a tag I never thought I'd use, Thor Needs a Hug, Thor tries, literally everyone needs a hug, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:50:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LookingForHell/pseuds/LookingForHell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asgard is not known for its mercies, but it claims at least one. When a mind is considered so lost that it is a danger to itself and those around it, it will be wiped clean entirely; of suffering, of memory, of self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to livejournal about a year ago in response, with some changes, to this prompt (http://norsekink.livejournal.com/8195.html?thread=17631491#t17631491), and my updates were so inconsistent that I never ended up finishing it there. Now, though, I have the whole thing written out, and I will be posting chapters as they are edited here, probably once ever three or four days. 
> 
> I do ask everyone to note that "chose not to use archive warnings" bit up there. I don't really like giving away the plot to my fics in the form of warnings, but since I know some people have trouble with certain themes feel free to comment or send me a message on tumblr (itsgodofthunderforareason) asking about a specific thing you'd prefer to avoid, and I'll tell you if/when it comes up.

Nobody was angry.  
  
It was all absolute silence but for a soft scraping as his chains rustled against each other, an accident of the slightest movement, and Loki was not entirely sure what to do. That uncertainty baffled and ached, for he had planned this moment, held it deep in his heart and drawn satisfaction from knowing beyond a doubt how he would claim this trial, perform for Odin’s punishment. He would play his "father" for a fool in front of the crowd, and laugh for their hatred, show them just how little he cared about the pitiful justice they sought.  
  
He had not expected to be sentenced alone.  
  
Well, relatively. Odin, Frigga, Thor, a handful of guards, and the thunderer’s rabble made up his audience. Loki had seen nearly ten thousand in here before and he was almost disappointed… yet of course there was some small pride, seeing that Odin so clearly feared the strength of his words. A shame they would not reach a worthwhile crowd, but Loki trusted he could make due.  
  
"Well, this is a surprise- my old friends and family, all come to say hello!" His grin unsettled them, and Loki felt it grow wider to see as much. "If I had known, I would have brought souvenirs."  
  
"Loki." It was half scolding, half angry, and Loki merely tilted his head, smiled.  _Yes?_  "Have you no repentance for what you have done? Do you not recognize your wrongs?"  
  
"I recognize my failure. I see no cause for "repentance", however, as my only crime is proving a less successful conqueror than yourself," Loki snapped, but the glower did not last. He chuckled, expression softening as he fixed the King with a lazy smile. "Rest assured, I shall do better next time.”  
  
For a moment there was silence. The warriors four exchanged nervous, knowing glances, Sif's holding a glint of satisfaction- yet a notable sadness which seemed, to Loki, a peculiar combination. At last, Odin spoke, just at the back of a long and painful sigh. "As will I."  
  
"Pardon?" Loki wondered, dry, and lifted an eyebrow, debating silently whether Odin was taunting him, senile, or genuinely intended some sort of assault on Midgard. The way Frigga looked, so sad over the whole thing, could have suggested any of the three.  
  
Except the others watched him solemnly too, and he would not have expected as much from those imbecilic friends of Thor's, who had never cared for him beyond the obligation owed to their Prince. Volstagg appeared particularly pained, and Fandral merely uncomfortable, Hogun a mask and Sif, even her, had eyes ducked to the ground. Not one person in the room seemed willing to respond.  
  
And perhaps that was how Loki knew, or maybe he had simply grounded his thoughts. However it came to him the realization struck all at once, beat his breath away. “No.”  
  
He had gone pale, stumbled back as far as the guards would allow him, but his voice did not tremble. Odin offered him no reply, only beckoned for him to be brought nearer. He struggled on the chains, and braced his feet so sharply that the men lurched into him from behind. "Death. I choose- I pick to die, that is my  _right_ ," he stammered, voice growing high and nervous on the final word.  
  
That was their law, one Loki had thought preposterous but now considered with as high a regard as he would ever give a piece of legislation. In Asgard there was a right owed to every citizen, even criminals; that to an honorable death, which could be demanded in lieu of the original sentence, whatever it may be. Usually it was taken as an alternative to permanent imprisonment, or something achingly humiliating, or perhaps worse than death itself.  
  
Like having your entire being taken from you.

"Execution is forbidden in the case of madness, as you well know. You yourself encouraged and helped to write that exception," Odin retorted, so calmly that some of Loki's panic came into anger.  
  
"I am not  _mad_ , you antiquated monster, and I have a right to my mind!" Surely this room full of warriors, slaves to their honor, would not allow this, not even to him? He had not sought the so-called "treatment" out, nor agreed to it, nor did he  _need_  it. "Do not let him do this, Thor."  
  
"I... I am sorry, Loki, but it is necessary. You have not been in control of yourself, and you have already proven a threat both to yourself and many others. It is only for your own-" Thor broke off, uncomfortable, upset, and perhaps knowing the foolishness of what he had almost said. "You will be glad for it one day."  
  
"No, I won't," Loki snarled. Baring his teeth somehow pushed the edges of his fear until he was fighting violently against the guards, a frantic, final effort. He was too angry for it, but he was on the verge of tears, his throat tight. "I won't be anything, do you understand? I will have nothing  _left!_  Better to kill me than unmake me, you-" Loki let out a torrent of every curse in his repertoire, stopping only when a guard's hand snapped over his mouth to force his silence.   
  
Maybe he could anger them into drawing their swords on him, cutting him down so he could at least die as  _himself_. But he was being held too tight to even move now, and no matter how he glared and struggled he couldn't seem to work anything but pity from the eyes of his audience.  _Damn you. Each one of you. I hope you all choke on your so-called mercy._    
  
"Leave him be," Odin ordered, and Loki found himself released so suddenly that he nearly collapsed- perhaps he should, it would be easier. "There is no need for this. There only those present who care f-"  
  
"And  _I_  am supposed to be the mad one, here? You… I don't want any of you here, not a single one! I was never part of your family, and those fools were always Thor's friends, not my own! Don't disguise your punishment as pity, you pathetic old man. You seek to humiliate me, nothing more."  
  
"Do you truly believe that?" Frigga whispered, and it was the first time he had heard her voice in over a year, enough for Loki to break off, gulping air in panicked gasps, tears gathering in his eyes.  _No, please, no, don't do this to me. Mother..._  "Do you think I would ever allow them even to consider this if I did not know it was the only thing we could do for you?"  
  
"You are wrong," he protested, his voice almost as soft as her own had been. "This- my mind is all I have. If you take that away from me, I am not your son any longer. I am nothing. You can coax love out of whatever you create from this, but I will-  _Loki_  will always hate you for it."  
  
If it was true, it was not for her, not his mother, but Loki could not bring himself to retract the words, even seeing the pain they brought to her eyes. Thor looked almost sick, like he might beg the whole thing off, but Odin, aside from a great air of sadness, remained resolute. "Is there any council you would have me take before we begin?"  
  
Loki felt like he might be ill, talking about this whole thing as if it was nothing. "Do not act like my opinion matters. You will do as you please regardless, and I look forward to proving you wrong. I will crash and  _burn_  no matter what you do. I do not belong here, and I never will."  
  
The guards dragged him forward, and Loki no longer had the strength to combat their efforts. He had to- so much to  _do_ , to think, to have, and no time for any of it, not when Thor, looking as shaken as if their positions had been swapped was already stepping forward, pick and hammer (not mjolnir, a small blessing) already in hand.

His body was shaking, his eyes were anguished but determined, yet his hands steady, and Loki felt another hope die. Thor knew what he is doing; he would not miss, not kill him by accident. They forced him to his knees, not his back, on the ground, and Loki did not even bother to struggle. Nor to help, either, going more or less limp in their grasps, forcing the men to hold him actively on his knees lest he simply collapse. Every instinct screamed to fight and flee but he couldn’t, not with these chains and the guards’ strength holding him so. “Please.” It was a whisper if it was anything at all, eyes turned upright in a final plea; helpless, broken, hateful.

Thor froze, pain so bright in his expression that Loki felt a glimmer of hope, only to sink along with it at the slightest shake of his head.  
  
"You are not saving me. You are helping none but yourself. Remember that, Thor, when you tell yourself this was for the best, remember that you forced this on me." Their gazes held as he spoke, but Loki shut his own as Thor’s shattered. He wanted to hold that close, the one he had once called brother's pain the final thing he saw, for he did not care if they thought him a coward.  
  
He shut out the end of his life, his being, and Thor’s hand was brushing the hair from his forehead, a soft farewell in his touch. He heard the thunderer’s deep breath, the air rush as the pick came down, and felt nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Thor's twelve-hundredth birthday his mortal allies have been extended an invitation to Asgard, to join the Realm Eternal in celebration. They are nothing short of ecstatic, until Thor comes to retrieve them with a familiar face at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I struggled with whether or not to include the second half of this chapter now or make it it's own chapter later but eventually caved. My apologies if the flow is strange, I just didn't think it would hold right all on its own. Thor's age is also vaguely... tentative. It fits with the dates the MCU gives us, but not in the slightest with the history of Norse mythology. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has commented! I can't tell you how happy I get to see your feedback. <3 I hope you all enjoy this new chapter!
> 
> ((Again, as I will remind every chapter: contact me in the comments or at itsgodofthunderforareason on tumblr if you want trigger information!))

“So, what do you pack for Asgard? I mean seriously, I can't just google “10 great packing tips for going to space”. Though there _might_ be a few Star Wars blogs out there with ideas.” Tony gave that a tentative thought and decided yeah, worth a shot, then tapped away; only to find a long list of fantasies and not one indication whether or not toothpaste could survive interplanetary travel.  
  
Most of the others were ignoring him, but Steve was directing a very annoyed look his way. Tony grinned over the back of his phone, already imagining the lecture that implied. “This isn't a joke, Tony. Humans almost never even get to see Asgard; Thor's putting a lot of faith in us with this invite, and if you make a fool out of him-”  
  
“Oh, relax, I know how to please the big-business types. I can't imagine a bunch of high-and-mighty warrior guys are going to be too much worse than a cutthroat boardroom.” The glower wasn't leaving, and Tony almost felt bad for Steve, knowing how stressed he was about the whole thing, how badly he'd been fussing since Thor had first come down to give his invitation. He wasn’t as much a stick in the mud as he’d seemed when they first met, but when it came time to take something seriously he could _really_ take it seriously. “I've got my bags all packed, Stars n' Stripes, don't worry about it. If the rest of those guys are anything like Thor the whole thing should be smooth sailing.”  
  
“Yeah, they're going to love Stark. He's always drunk, sleeps with everything that moves, and gets into fights for no reason.”  
  
“Ah, Barton, nice to hear you could join us.” Tony swiveled around in his chair, lifting an eyebrow at the newly-arrived super-spy pair. It was amazing how comfortable he'd grown with having a group of deadly and unstable superheroes barging from room to room at random in his tower over the last two years... especially considering one of them was frequently tearing his pants and destroying things, and another only dropped by every few months to drink his beer and water the local fauna.  
  
(Also amazing how he'd actually gotten  _used_  to other people and their emotions, actually learned to recognize that Thor must have had a reason for bringing thunderstorms with his every visit. Of course, he hadn't gotten so comfortable that he quite knew how to deal with that, so Tony had learned to awkwardly pretend he couldn't see how sad Thor had become.)  
  
The archer, a duffel bag over his shoulder which could have contained all of his worldly possessions by Tony's estimate, grinned with his usual cheek, sitting down and kicking his shoe-covered feet over his couch as if he owned the place. He'd only said it once,  _make yourselves at home_ , but Clint had taken the phrase to heart, and was constantly going so far as to drink straight from the coffee pot, just to irk him.  
  
“I feel like a teenager waiting for her date to pick her up,” Natasha scoffed, joining him with her legs stretched out over his lap. “Did Thor even say when he's coming?”  
  
“Nope, just that it'd be today. Come on, perk up, this is exciting! I mean, we're going to an alien planet for a _god’s_ birthday party. I feel like NASA should be all over this, instead we have to  _beg_  for a week off.” Tony tried to keep it all in, but he was still practically vibrating with excitement. He was going to space.  _Space._  Deified space, with godly booze and food and an entire planet of people who partied like Thor.  
  
He knew they had their own little heaven for that sort of thing, but Tony figured he would be happy if that was the closest he ever got.  
  
Bruce didn't look nearly as eager- and they couldn’t really blame him for that one. Tony was pretty sure he was just going to keep himself doped up on tea and incense the whole trip, and spend as much of it as could be polite in his rooms (which Thor had promised would be expansive, extremely comfortable, and bustling with well-hidden servants, which was, okay, a _bit_ weird).

“Hey, do you think we'll be allowed to take a little dungeon-hopping tour?” Clint wondered, eyes bright, excited, probably only resisting the urge to twirl about an arrow because Natasha grabbed him by the wrist before he could reach for one. “I'd  _love_  to see what they've got set up for Loki. Unless he's dead, I'll accept that, too.”   
  
“Yeah, that'll go over great. 'Hey Thor, happy birthday! Tell me, can I see your brother’s cell and/or corpse'?”   
  
“A man can dream, Stark. And hey, considering what we've gathered about the general opinion of that guy up there, he probably gets that all the time.”  
  
Which would explain the thunderstorms, at least, but somehow Tony imagined there would be quite a dip in the Asgardian population if that were true. Poor Steve looked like he was about to have a heart attack, (which was of course impossible considering the whole super serum thing), and the fact that nobody jumped in to assure him that no, really, Clint was joking, he wouldn't do anything _that_ bad, only made it worse. “Inter-planetary incident. Galactic war. Lots of potential very bad things, all of which I will blame on you when Fury charges us with treason.”  
  
“If Thor was that concerned with how much we hate his brother, he wouldn't have stuck around for long,” Natasha pointed out, entirely unconcerned. For her the thought of surrounding herself with gods probably seemed halfway tame. “For all we know they  _want_ us to act irrationally. We're probably going to be a bit of a spectacle for them, a bunch of mortals wandering around acting human and strange.”  
  
“Like we wouldn’t do it too,” Tony countered. “I mean we live, like, an hour compared to them. Seriously, imagine a bunch of really intelligent parrots hopping in here and sharing an intelligent conversation with us, acting like they're people. It's cool, cause they can talk, and cute because they're parrots, best of both worlds.”

“Did you just compare yourself to a parrot?”

“No, Barton, I compared _all_ of us to parrots, which in your case is an accurate mental reflection as well. Don’t worry though, I’m sure they’ll find it cute that you’re dumb as a-“

Pillow. Tony ducked out of the way just in time for it to sail past his head, thumping casually into the side of Bruce’s head. Poor man let out a long sigh, staring directly and accusingly at Clint until the archer cleared his throat and made to hide behind a very uncooperative Black Widow.

“Maybe I can convince them you’re all children,” Steve wondered, frowning enough to almost seem serious. “Very drunk and disorderly children.”

That probably wasn’t all too unusual in Asgard, by Tony’s estimate, but before he could say so a series of soft _Ding_ s rang out through the lobby, drawing everyone’s attention swift and sharp to the door. “Well, that’s quicker than I was expecting,” Bruce noted, smiling with the barest twitch of nerves.

Tony glanced toward the door, but he couldn't make out Thor's shape past the small and blurry window it contained. There was some obvious movement going on, but it was all kind of... contained, non-excessive, normal. Not Thor. And there was, he noted, a distinctive lack of thunderstorms, which worried him; what, an unexpected visit from Fury, or some other pain in his ass?  
  
Steve hopped up, politeness coming off him in pleasant waves, and since Tony really couldn't be so shitty a host as to allow Captain America to play the doorman he got up as well, assuring his friend that it was okay to return to his seat, he had this. All he got for that was a doubtful look, and the soldier's company on the way to the door.  
  
Well, fine. He didn't exactly have the best track record, could only blame so much.  
  
“Hey, William the Conqueror, good to see ya! I mean, better when you’re not drowning my roses, but-“  
  
Steve went into action before Tony had entirely registered what he was seeing, and it was the shield swinging off his back that cut his words off, rather than the threat which had demanded the movement. He was quick to move after that, however, reaching to click on his armlet and shout for his suit, but his voice fell to an awkward croak as Thor's hand caught on his wrist, the other holding the Captain's weapon at bay.

“What,” Tony growled, with a hint of the panic he had thought he'd finally lost over a year ago, “is he doing here?”  
  
Loki. Tony was not sure how he was able to actually think, whether his body or his mind had gone to shock at the sight of the same face that had haunted him since the moment he'd first seen it. The god, the murderer, genocidal son of a bitch-  
  
Inconveniently, instinct propelled him forward; inconvenient because Thor had damn good reflexes, and Tony moved not to fight his enemy but to slam hard into the god’s protective hand. “ _Stop_. I will not allow you to harm my brother, do you understand? He-”  
  
“Brother? I better not have just heard brother.” Clint's voice, and wasn't that just  _wonderful_? The archer had a growl in his tone, not wild fear or rage; which was good, a small relief, even if there was a noise behind them which sounded suspiciously like a custom-made bow being snapped open.  
  
Loki, far from drawing back in fear at the undoubtedly familiar noise, seemed to perk up with curiosity, peeking out a little from behind his brother's back where he had taken refuge as soon as they opened the door. It was one of the strangest things Tony had ever seen; the madness was gone, the wild grin melted down to a slightly nervous frown, the eyes that had burned with some terrifying, murderous pain now alight with nothing more than excitement. He looked almost like a normal person, even if their gazes only caught for a few seconds before Loki hid his face back in Thor’s cape.  
  
Thor released Tony, tentatively, to turn his attention to his brother, whispering something none of them could hear. He then looked back to them, a team of threats gathered in the doorway, and glared, daring anyone to make another move. Clint was probably willing to try, but Steve was halting him (a good thing, since Natasha was occupied with Bruce, who she'd dragged out of the room almost immediately), and he seemed a little too stunned to make a real assault. Yet.   
  
The threat in Thor's eyes was stronger than any anger Tony had seen in their two years of knowing each other, and that was saying quite a bit, considering even the original circumstances under which they'd met. Now there was something burning in there like never before, a protective, deadly force of nature in the form of a man, ready to strike down anyone who made an attempt to arrest the war criminal who just so happened to be walking about free as a bird.  
  
It was weirdly… humbling, to say the least.  
  
“Thor,” Steve interrupted, and Thor turned to him with a look that probably would have had anyone else withering in their boots. The Captain, however, remained firm and focused, meeting his gaze head-on. “We want an explanation. Now.”

“My brother is no threat to you, nor any of the people of earth. He... desired to join me in bringing you to Asgard, and the request was deemed acceptable.”  
  
“Why the hell is he being given any requests? That son a bitch-”  
  
“That's not a nice word,” Loki protested, his voice stunning Clint into silence. Not, maybe, because of the fact that he'd spoken alone, but the  _way_  he did it, like he hadn't really meant to but couldn't stop himself, voice soft and aghast at the archer's language.   
  
Tony, who'd heard of the same guy calling Natasha something much worse, wasn't sure if he found the tone or the content less believable. “Uh  _huh_. Yeah. We tend to use “not nice” words with the people who murder our friends. Just, you know, a general rule.”

And Loki just stared at him, brows drawn in, confused and unhappy, then leaned closer to Thor to whisper in his older brother's ear. “No, they don't, they are just upset. It's okay, don't be nervous, remember what mother said about meeting new people?” Thor shot them another furious look, daring them to contradict him, as if they could have figured out what that _meant_ , and smiled at Loki, whose expression they could not quite see. The trickster nodded, just barely, hands still twined tight in the cloth of his brother's cape, employing him as a big, blond barrier.  
  
“Mm hmm.”  
  
“Well? Go on.”  
  
“I don't  _want_ to.”   
  
“I am right here, Loki, I will not let anything happen to you.”  
  
Something in the pit of Tony's stomach felt wrong. Loki looked drawn in, anxious, even innocent, like he was trying to make himself much smaller than he actually was, as if his body was too tall, too big for him all of a sudden. Thor was talking to him softly and gently, like one might a very small child, and when Loki finally peeked out again, Tony got a good look at his eyes. They were so simple, the emotion clear and forward, intelligence buried at the back of it all but no, even that was just a glimmer, a half-formed show of wonderment, not even cleverness. His smile was tentative, a little nervous lift of his lips, and his hand, when he pulled it away from Thor's cape, trembled just slightly as he extended it.   
  
“H-hello. I'm Loki,” he introduced, formally, as if not quite used to the words or the concept. Not,  _I am Loki, of Asgard, bow before me puny mortals,_  but  _Hello_ , a genuine if frightened gesture.  
  
Tony had no idea what look he must have worn that caused Loki to pull back and look up at Thor, tug at the hem of his cape and murmur, “He looks sad, brother, did I do it wrong?”  
  
Maybe Thor was on his way to reply, but Tony couldn't even bring himself to look at him and check, fixed on Loki and thinking he might vomit. “Oh god, Thor. What did you  _do_  to him?”  
\----  
“This is seriously fucked up, Thor.”  
  
Not, oddly enough, a description Tony often gave out, but still nowhere near severe enough for what he'd just been told, for the _lobotomy_ that had been forced on Loki as some disgusting excuse for treatment.   
  
He didn't look like the too-calm or brain-dead patients Tony had seen in medical books -or unpleasant and highly regrettable internet searches- in the past. He was sitting cross-legged on the rug and drawing with Steve, who was showing him how to color a wolf, constantly offering praise that had the god blushing in shy delight. Bruce had helped him make some of the most bizarre sandwiches any of them had ever seen, and even Natasha, hanging back, was eating one of them, obligingly, while Barton sulked in the corner. Loki, surrounded by attentive and outwardly agreeable people, looked like one of the happiest kids Tony had ever seen, except of course for the fact that he was an adult, and that no amount of happiness could make up for the fact that someone had sliced into his brain.  
  
Thor only nodded, the pain and guilt so powerful in his expression that Tony had so far been able to hold back the worst of his anger. So far. “I am aware. It is... different, in Asgard, the process and its consequences are not the same. But is not something to be done lightly, and I think I will always fear that we made the wrong decision.”  
  
“I don't know how the hell you could ever call it  _right_. Look at him, Thor, that's the same guy who tried to take over the world two years ago? I'm not exactly in favor of the whole subjugation of the human race thing, but this... this is just wrong. Nobody has the right to do that to somebody.”

“You do not understand,” Thor protested, scowling a warning when it was obvious Tony intended to protest. “No, Anthony, truly, you do not. We are not like you humans; we heal, from nearly everything, and quickly, too. Loki has the chance to grow again, to forge anew his life free of all the pain we unknowingly forced on him before.”  
  
“Don't call him that. I don't know what this is supposed to be, but that's not Loki. He has your brother's body, but you took away everything-”  
  
“Do you think I do not know that?!” Loki looked over, startled out of his ease by the sudden volume. Thor cleared his throat, and gestured for the other god to go back to playing with a fumbling attempt at a smile. He seemed to debate it for a moment, but was easily distracted by Steve, luring him in with a new type of pen, and Thor let out a long, shuddering sigh. “Loki is Loki. Many of his memories will return and, at his core, he is still himself. It may take centuries, or perhaps only decades, but he will heal, and with any luck he will still be my brother... but I took something vital to him, and I will never forgive myself for that, even if it was necessary.”  
  
Somehow he wasn’t buying that one, even if he kept his lips tight on the doubt for now. Steve was talking to Loki again; quietly, but not so much so that Tony could not hear him. “That's... your mother?” The god nodded, and he had to suppose that referred to whatever they had started drawing now. “She's beautiful. What's she doing, there, in her hand?”  
  
“Magic.”  
  
“Oh, right, she- uh, she taught you, right?” Steve wondered, encouraging, and Tony could see him combating with his thoughts, afraid he had just referenced a memory that Loki no longer had.  
  
But Loki beamed, perking up and nodding, two or three times in quick succession. “Mm hmm! All the time, she says I'm getting good at it. Do you want to see?” He wondered, eager, hopeful, and Steve smiled and said yes, of course he would.

Loki lit up even more somehow, and brought his hand up to frown hard at it. Soon there was a light dancing across his palm, blue and green, red, purple, changing colors at random as it curled between its caster’s fingers. Impressive, impossible, but not much compared to the man who had once controlled dozens of people, made perfect copies of himself on a whim, wielded magic as expertly as Thor did his hammer. Yet Loki looked so proud, as if a trick of the light was the highest accomplishment, even if his smile was still a little shy.  
  
Oh, god. He couldn’t watch this. Tony turned away sharply, taking in a deep breath that trembled on its way in.

Thor was watching too, fondness and pain alternating in his expression, lips tight either way. Tony watched him for a moment then decided neither of them deserved the silence, and cleared his throat. “That's... a lot for two years.”

“Again, it is not the same for us. We are only infantile for perhaps a year, and often even less. Our adolescence is prolonged, but our early development is very rapid... I assume you have heard the tales of Vali, who grew to adulthood in one day? A ridiculous exaggeration from observing mortals, but not entirely baseless. And Loki was always smarter than most, things will be… a little slower, in general, because of the damage, but... Language at least comes naturally thanks to the Allspeak, thankfully. He would hate to be without his words.”  
  
How could they call this treatment, mercy, whatever they had pegged it as? Thor looked as tortured as Tony knew Loki would feel if he had known what was done to him, and he couldn't imagine any good from this. “Why the hell did you do it, Thor? He couldn't have wanted you to.”  
  
“He was in pain. I could not bear to see it,” Thor whispered after a too-long pause, his voice much too small. “A year before you met him, Loki tried to take his own life. It is how he ended up in Midgard in the end, and I fear what happened to him during the time between, what could have caused his madness to grow so much worse. If he is happier for it, in the end, then I am glad. I will never know whether or not it was right, but I beg you not to let your anger show against Loki. Return with us to Asgard, see for yourself what his life is now, and perhaps you will understand better how we can allow such a thing.”  
  
Loki was done with his trick by now, instead pointing things out and demanding Steve explain them, or show what they do, eagerly fawning over each new oddity. It was lucky Cap knew what he was doing, that Loki was so curious and quick to relax, because nobody else looked fully sure what to do with themselves, whether to be sad or angry or simply confused.   
  
Why the hell did Tony have to be having this talk, anyway? He wasn't the leader, he didn't  _get_  people, and he had the emphatic capacity of your average garden squirrel. He fidgeted, uncertain, but finally nodded. “Yeah. Fine, whatever, but  _you_  get to convince Clint.” He wished he could just stay here, say 'screw it' to the godly invitation, pretend he'd never seen anything and curl up in his lab with an engine and some coffee.  
  
But he had the feeling that if he didn't try, somehow, to make sense of all this the memory would haunt him for years; he needed something, _anything_ , that would let him meet Thor's eye in the future without feeling this overpowering disgust.

\---

That first week after had been the worst of Thor's life. It was normal, he knew and was told over and over again, that the healing process would take a very long time, and for his brain to repair itself even to the point of recognizable activity was a difficult and slow step to take. Each of those few 'patients' before Loki had gone through it just the same and awoken, unharmed, despite appearing as if they would never heal, lying unresponsive and far too still for days or weeks.  
  
Yet the knowledge of that did nothing to comfort Thor. He had accepted that from the moment he made the suggestion to his father, that he would never cease to curse himself for doing this, but he had decided it was worth it; a lifetime of guilt was nothing if it could bring peace to the rage in Loki's mind.  
  
That determination had begun to flicker from the moment his brother entered the throne room, and had cracked and gnawed within him as he held Loki in his arms. Limp, barely breathing, eyes half-open and dull before Thor had managed to close them (he had been shaking so badly he couldn’t risk it, for a while). He hadn't moved so much as a finger. Not on the way to the medical bay, nor after reaching it, no matter what tests the healers did, or how Frigga stroked his hair, or Thor clutched his hand. Odin did not touch him, not once. They made frequent visits, with Thor leaving only when forced, but the King never came closer than the wall, staring at his younger son with an expression Thor understood far too well.  
  
Thor was the only one in the room when Loki first moved, and he was not even awake for it. The healers had retired hours ago, and he had fallen asleep in the chair he had set at his brother's bedside; fretfully, only aware of anything at all because he woke constantly throughout the night, his thoughts snapping at his mind in their confusion, and would check pointlessly to be sure of Loki's well-being. He was still breathing, lying still, the scar on his forehead a thin line, visible only because it was alone, the rest of his skin pale and unmarred.   
  
Yet he was lying on his side and not his back then, mouth slightly parted, shoulders drawing in on themselves. Thor stared until he was sure there was no vestige of dream left that could have been responsible, and let out a sigh of relief that shook his whole body.  
  
Should he have been relieved that Loki would live, or cursed himself for not letting him die? It did not matter. There was a blanket on the bed, useless to a frost giant in an Asgardian Autumn, and Thor pulled it up to Loki's collarbone, giving a soft laugh beneath his breath when his brother immediately tugged it around himself, the cloth all the way up to his nose to nuzzle in the warmth. “You did have a tendency to hog them,” Thor recalled from the days they had been young enough for a shared bed. It had been rather miserable- Loki gave off cold but never felt it, and yet still claimed all the blankets for himself so that Thor, unless they spent half the evening arguing over it, ended up, halfway through the night, waking from the cold to find the covers snatched away.  
  
His smile had not lingered long. Thor's throat felt heavy and his eyes stung, hating this subdued pain. He wanted to roar in his grief and cry in his regret, but what right had he to do either? “Forgive me, brother,” he whispered instead, though the one who could have given him that forgiveness was gone, now.  
  
Ten days later, Loki woke.  
  
When it became apparent this was near all but Frigga and Odin had been shuffled out of the healing rooms, and Thor had been forced to endure the wait in the sparring ring. His friends defeated him a record four times out of the ten between them and thus promptly declared him unfit for anything that required rational thought. Volstagg and Sif had admitted that they did not quite trust themselves to Loki's company so soon, but Hogun and Fandral had followed willingly, and both sat waiting outside the door when Thor entered to introduce himself to the closest person to him in all the realms.

Frigga opened the door, which was something of a surprise- he had expected it to be her refusing to leave Loki, now that he was alert, but Odin was sitting with his son, the man curled up on the bed with his head on his father's shoulder as if he were hardly a child. It was not the sort of attention their King frequently allowed nor had even when they were young, but it was what Loki had ahead of him; care, comfort, and love from the entire realm, protection as he worked through a tragedy few of them would ever know.

Right then he did not seem to find it particularly noteworthy. His eyes had been half closed, his breath slow, and when Frigga, whispering a reassurance to her oldest son, called his attention he turned only slowly, as if not quite sure he had heard.  
  
(Another anticipated effect, though like all else so far it hurt nonetheless to see. An intense calm, a sort of detachment, was bound to linger for a day or two more before his recovery spiked, and Loki would spend many hours of his first days simply sleeping.)  
  
“Loki?” He hadn’t been used to the name yet, his response slightly delayed for it, but he seemed at least to know he was the one it referred to. “This is Thor, your brother. He is not by blood either, but he has cared for you while you slept, and he loves you no less than either of us.”  
  
_And what does that say? Can we even claim to love him, after all we did?_  “Hello,” Loki murmured, after glancing to Frigga for confirmation, his smile welcoming, but very tired. “Thor.” He did not seem at all unnerved by what he had apparently been told so far, and why should he? 'Adopted' hardly meant anything to him now ( _anything_ hardly did) and by the time he knew enough for it to matter he would be well acquainted with the idea.  
  
Thor could not help wondering how differently things may have been for just that small improvement, but he was not fool enough to think that news the only failing in Loki's upbringing. There was much to make up for, so much wrong to turn right. He smiled, as well as he could, and returned the greeting, softly asked how Loki was doing, and together they guided him through conversation for a while, until he had seemingly decided that he was too tired to keep talking and simply buried his face against his father's shoulder, shutting them out. Thor was not sure whether to be worried, confused, or fond, but all three brought some form of ache with them, as he knew they would.  
  
It was nothing. His pain, compared to all Loki had endured, all they were saving him from in the future, was nothing. He only had to remember that, and perhaps he could make it through this.  
  
\----  
  
When they brought Loki back to his own rooms for the first time he spent the entire day running about and making Thor explain the function of his various possessions, then whining if he did not see the purpose or rationality behind it. It was not exactly unfamiliar- when they had both been children, and Loki finally old enough to speak, he had behaved much the same. Thor, impatient and confused, had insulted him for it, until eventually the outward curiosity had ceased entirely, and Loki had simply called on his books for answer or found them through experimentation.  
  
Now, Thor did the best he could to make sense of things for his brother's sake, and to show him how to make use of the things he would need in daily life. How to work the clasps of his clothing, to hold and employ silverware, why the sun replaced the moon during the day and how these differences affected activity. It was not a short process, over months of frustration on all ends, but made much easier by experience and assistance. Often as he was leading Loki through a day others would greet the prince, join in their discoveries or reveal the sense behind their actions. All of Asgard accommodated and pleased, old grudges giving way to care and comfort that had Thor wondering, with amazement and hatred, how their people could accept this horror so easily.

At nights Thor, or often Frigga, retired to Loki's room and let him sleep curled around them, latched on tight. It was something Thor had never understood as a child, another habit he had complained of, tried to break of him. Only now did he truly realize the reasoning of it; the Jotuns survived in youth or weakness through shared warmth in their beds, sometimes a deepness of sleep so great as to approach hibernation, the only way for them to both function and thrive in such cold. Loki had slept poorly for most of his life for Thor's refusal to accept the odd comfort, and their parents had said nothing- for, as Frigga revealed with pain in every word, they had hoped to rid him of the habits which might reveal his race, or leave him feeling even further apart from his fellows.  
  
And that was not the only way in which Loki's nature was smothered. There was little chance for flame in Jotunheim, and the frost giants took their meat raw when they had it at all (leaving Thor now to watch with a rather unnerved fascination as his brother chewed happily away at a plate of barely-singed boar). They grew weary in the sun, were extremely fond of the sweetness of fruit, and lived nocturnal, though that latter-most instinct was one they had to keep him from indulging with surprising ease, for with their father's magic granting him an Aesir appearance Loki's eyes were not bothered by the sun.  
  
Loki was taught combat with none of the laughter that had always plagued him in their youth, encouraged to learn his knives and magic (simple though these tactics were) with skill and praise instead of shame. He picked up social customs a little more slowly, still not quite able to understand many of the nuances, and was guided patiently through it all. He explored the castle day and night, often causing a panic when Thor woke to find him gone from the room, and caused constant, casual chaos on a regular basis, simply to know what would happen. He pulled his brother and their friends into games, usually of his own invention with entirely incomprehensible rules, and asked endless questions.  
  
He was insatiable, more than just demanding, not rude but curious, absolutely in love with life and all he could learn of it. Thor could not have been happier to see Loki free of the plague of loathing which he had carried and they ignored for so long, but nor could he forgive himself, any of them, for all they had done to prevent this joy before. And not one day passed that did not nearly choke him in regret, nor end without silent pleas that somehow Loki could thank him for this- or even that Thor could be sure he  _would_.  
  
It was easier during the day, when he saw the warmth and happiness that had filled the place vacated by Loki's rage. It was not insurmountable, of course, though it was strong. He cried, yet he did so in the way a child would, over things that he could not comprehend; pain, the smallest hints of sadness, fear. They kept these rare enough, but could not protect him from everything nor thought it would be wise to try, and always made sure to help him out of the mood. Only once did they fail, a year and a half past the procedure, when Loki was first allowed out of castle grounds.  
  
He wanted a dog, having seen one around the gardens and taken an immediate liking to the beast, and there seemed no reason not to let him have one, with so many others around to ensure its care was sufficient. The royal kennel had not seen a new litter in months, and had no unclaimed animals, but there were many in the towns, including that which supplied their war hounds when there was need for it (as there had not been in centuries or more). It had seemed a good enough idea; Loki had been absolutely enamored with the dog they brought to him, and listened obediently to how best to greet it, cautiously put his hand forth to let it catch his scent. But then, after taking a single sniff, it had growled, hackles raised, and bit down with just that second's warning into Loki's hand.

Even after having the wound numbed, stitched, and bandaged, given medicine for any lingering pain and being fussed over by both their parents for the remainder of the day, Loki was distraught. He had sobbed and whimpered until he gave himself a headache, then hiccupped and cried and clutched at his brother's shirt, hiding in Thor's arms. It was not the wound, no, for his body was well accustomed to far worse.   
  
“But I didn't do anything,” he had protested, through his tears, confused and hurt. “W-why did it want to bite me? I didn't  _do_  anything.”  
  
Thor had not had the dog put down or even struck, but rather cursed himself for ever having brought Loki to such a place at all, knowing he could not punish the beast for following its training. The war hounds were drilled to kill frost giants, smelled a Jotun and went for blood. He had tried to explain, knowing the uncertainty was worse than the knowledge for Loki, but it had been no use- he simply could not understand why anything would want to hurt him for a reason he could not control. In the end they had given him a pup, not yet trained against his scent, and he had realized that it was not some intrinsic fault in him to blame but only an accident of Thor's damned oversight.  
  
Yet Thor did not forget how horribly upset he had been, and so he could not help but be nervous when Frigga informed him that Loki had come up to her and begged, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, to go to Midgard with his big brother. Initially he had refused, without even consideration, and his mother's scolding had been no small thing to behold.  
  
“And what am I to do, mother? They will not understand- they will either hate him or treat him like some anomaly, the mortals cannot forget or forgive so easily!” Thor had argued, voice a soft hiss, for Loki was just in the other room, practicing the spell Frigga had just shown him.  
  
“And do you intend to keep him locked away when they are here to visit?” She demanded in turn, chin held high and eyes bright, unyielding. “They cannot share in celebration with one prince without meeting the other. After all those times you've gone off to Midgard, all those stories you have told him, did you really think he would not demand to go?”  
  
“Of course not. But I thought he was to remain in Asgard until he was better prepared, earth-”  
  
“Is far safer than any of the other realms, and will satisfy his curiosity without risking his health. These are your friends, Thor. They will understand. And if they do not, they are welcome to take it up with me.”  
  
That had been the end of the matter, and Thor had gone to tell Loki that they would be leaving the next afternoon, which had earned him such an exuberant response that he had almost felt bad for intending denial. His fear for what would happen did not diminish entirely, however, until he was walking down the halls of his home once more, watching his brother drag the mortals about through every nook and cranny of the castle, constantly waylaying them with the many tidbits of information he had gathered over the last two years. 

Only the Captain was taking everything completely in stride, as seemed to be his way. The others, particularly agent Barton, seemed both uncomfortable and displeased, as horribly confused and conflicted as Thor himself was on his best days. Loki, if he took any notice of this oddity, had elected to ignore it, and was frequently stopping passerby to introduce them, seemingly proud of the mortal company he had gathered behind him. 

They looked on Thor meanwhile with doubt, pain, and sometimes revulsion, all that he felt he deserved and had never been shown from the rest of Asgard. It did not ache as much as he may have expected, and he held his head high though he made no excuses. Loki had suffered his entire life. It was worth it, he thought again, and again, if he could finally be as happy as he was now, grinning with a hope he had grown to deny himself before. It was worth it, even if it was not really the same smile lighting his face that he had grown used to, it was worth it even if the habits, memories and beliefs that had made him  _Loki_  were no longer there.

Thor did not know what he could do if it was not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this wasn't too much of a mess, or anything. Things will flow linearly from now on, though PoV will change frequently still.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's commented! You guys seriously make my day, I love hearing from people. There are lots of PoV switches up and coming, but hopefully everything is clear enough. Now I hadn't seen AoU when I started this, but this is an AU branching off post-Avengers anyway, so it's not going to be in line with Phase 2, just a reminder. 
> 
> Again, if anybody has any sort of problems with content they need to avoid please contact me!

Apparently in Asgard they didn't pull off birthdays in the same way they did on earth; which explained why, of course, Thor hadn't been holding these things every year. Just once a century for adults, every decade for kids. That had almost seemed strange to Steve, because even though they lived for a very long time the Asgardians were party animals and didn't seem the sorts to pass up on having an annual celebration.  
  
When it came to the morning of, however, he began to understand.  
  
They were collected by servants fairly early on, and brought (amidst Tony's exaggerated, tired whining and Clint's retaliatory complaints) to the lavishly decorated dining hall, where they were seated across from Thor's Asgardian brothers-in-arms, at a place of apparent honor, and given full access to a table laden half to splitting with foods he had never even seen before. Servants were playing music in various corners, performers were dancing and juggling, combatants were showing off in the center of the hall- and this only for breakfast. The room was decorated floor to ceiling with various trophies of Thor's past victories, paintings, and magic; bursts of fire or color were winding their ways if alive through the room, shining the air above them with a projection of the sky outside.   
  
Loki, though he did not seem too fond of all the noise, ensured that Steve knew exactly which spells he had put into place himself. He had taken to him, more than any of the others, which he didn't mind, really, since it made him happier, and seemed to remove some of the stress from Thor. He didn't mind, no, but he couldn't help feeling odd, encouraging and praising the man who had tried to crush the world beneath his heel.  
  
After that it was to the festival, which Steve thought wasn't really a fair word since they had festivals on Earth, and they were  _nothing_  like this.  
  
There were strange, giant creatures (including two goats who were not only twice as tall as Steve but breathed fire) being led through the streets, merchants handing out free wares. Mostly food, but there were also magical devices and toys, flowers that burst into flame, folded in on themselves, and morphed into various shapes which he could only assume had some significance to Thor. (They spent ten minutes arguing over who should ask about the one that turned into the veil, with no luck.)  
  
It was.... exciting, energetic, welcoming, and fun, even, if Steve hadn't felt the entire time like he'd swallowed a rock.   
  
“You don't look like somebody who's partying with the gods should look, Captain.” They were watching a group melee, people bashing each other non-fatally and laughing as they did it, and Tony had sidled on up to his side with huge mugs of mead and a leg of (probably) mutton around the time everything began. Steve's drink was well gone (and, disappointingly enough, no, Asgardian alcohol was not enough to get him drunk) within ten minutes, though the engineer was still nursing his own. “You sure you're doing all right?”

“Well enough.” He'd been trying, hard, not to let himself be bothered, not when none of the others could manage to wholly hide their discomfort and disgust. Loki was picking up on it, growing nervous and upset, and  _somebody_  had to put up a friendly front- he just wasn't quite sure how it had gotten to be him, how he endured where the others (arguably more capable, for all their experience in lying) could barely look their former enemy in the eye. He'd been trying, mostly succeeding, but he was exhausted in a way so deep it felt halfway primal, and he was almost relieved that Loki had run off to Thor's side at the start of the match, allowing him a moment to himself to... think, feel? It was hard to tell.  
  
He was glad Loki was happy. He was at least as glad that he wasn't trying to kill people in droves anymore, and that his smile no longer looked like it was going to tear him (and anyone within his line of sight) apart. But there was more than that, of course there was, and Tony took one look at his frown then blurted out their shared fears, a little loudly, maybe thanks to the mead.  
  
“They throw out his fucking mind so they can tell themselves they're doing the right thing, instead of punishing him or owing up to their own mistakes, and nobody can tell them to stop patting themselves on the backs because it could upset Loki to do it. That doesn't sound right- or fair.”  
  
“They don't look like they're too happy about it,” Steve returned, feeling the need somehow to defend him when he saw the way Thor smiled at his little brother. God, he’d never seen him so torn, relief and pain playing out a battle more vicious than the one below them. “Thor at least thinks it's for the best. Or he wants to.”  
  
“That's an excuse?”  
  
“Of course it's not. None of them are blameless in this, they did something terrible. But what are we supposed to do? Tell Loki he should be angry, that he should hate them all until it drives him mad again? Even if that worked... would he really want that? He's  _happy_ , safe, and comfortable. That doesn't excuse anything, no, but...”  
  
Steve sighed and tore his gaze from the brothers to Tony, who looked as bad as Steve felt in that moment, like his heart was being nagged in too many directions. It was obvious that the engineer wanted badly to do something, drastic or otherwise, but even if that were plausible they couldn't interfere without thinking and watching for far longer than they had.  
  
Of course, interfering at all was probably out of the question. They weren't here to rewrite Asgard's legal system, there wasn't any way they could heal Loki's mind, and there was little  _point_  in arresting or arguing for the punishment of any who'd done that to him (both because they would fail, and because Loki would be without his caretakers, which could hardly fix anything). Clint had suggested they either ignore it, or kill the trickster- and promptly volunteered for the task.  
  
Steve had told him to lock his bow and quiver up in the room for their stay, or he'd personally throw them from the bifrost.  
  
Tony was usually the sort to laugh philosophy in the face but drunk as he was he looked primed for an ethical debate, and Steve wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to deal with that, given what could happen if any of the Aesir chose to listen in. He would have put the conversation off for another time, if someone hadn't solved the problem for him by screaming, loud and fearful, over the sounds of the crowd.  
  
There wasn't a single person watching who wasn't a trained warrior themselves, so all heads had turned and tensed in defense before the sound was even finished. It wasn't long, but for a moment Steve thought it was still going, since Loki's mouth was still open, and he was still clutching Thor's arm tight in terror. But it was the silence ringing, not his voice, a thousand spectators gone instantly still at the sight of a spear caught only an inch from their youngest prince's face.

Steve felt cold-he wasn’t quite sure with anger or fear- as he watched Thor’s rage shake him, the spear cracking in two to fall at his feet. Tony cursed, somebody took up an indignant growl, and Loki gasped, strained, and burrowed his face against his brother's arm.  
  
“Who threw this?” Thor demanded, rumbling over the crowd with so much anger that the words were shaken, difficult to understand. That didn't make them any less powerful, and the group of soldiers down below seemed to shrink away from it (no small feat, considering the pride of these people). “ _Who?!_ ”  
  
“Shit. Better go calm him down,” Tony muttered, already setting his mug precariously on the railing in preparation to do so. Thor looked like he was going to jump down in the arena and start shattering bones until he had someone to blame for the attack... Including any small, drunk mortals who tried to get in his way of doing so.  
  
“Stop,” Steve ordered, voice rougher than intended. Someone had tried to kill Loki, only about fifty yards away from him, on the festival for Thor's birthday. God. “You're just going to get hurt. We need to find the King, let him know.”  
  
Before they could do that Thor shouted again, and Steve actually winced, the burning fury more painful on his ears than the volume. “If he does not step forward I swear I will have the man torn apart who has done this, once I find him. Cowardly-”  
  
The man was practically baring his teeth, and it was a miracle the soft tug Loki gave to his cape managed to attract any attention at all. But light though it looked, Thor completely withered, shoulders going limp, expression softening to confusion and fright in the split second it was visible before he turned from them to pull Loki protectively against his chest.   
  
The group combat had been wild and violent, a frenzy of about half a dozen men going at each other with every weapon and power in their arsenal. There were racks with spears, swords, maces, bows, and nearly everything else imaginable on the sides of the sparring ground in which they had fought, and it was nearly impossible to determine which could have thrown the weapon. Or even, in all the confusion, if they had _meant_ to aim as they did, though an accident seemed unlikely.  
  
There was one person he knew of who would have been watching expertly and carefully enough to figure it out, and across the arena Steve met his eye. Clint didn't so much as nod his head, nothing to indicate he had even been paying attention to the danger, but that was a question for later. For now, someone had to find Odin, before any of these furious Viking-gods went in for blood (though it was surprising, almost, how many looked like they wanted to).

-  
  
Thor wasn't with them, but how was that supposed to be a surprise, at this point? The thunder god had spent as little time as possible in their presence over the last two years, and it didn't seem reasonable to expect anything different just because his dirty little secret had been revealed.  
  
Okay, so it also obviously had something to do with Loki almost taking a spear through the face, but Clint, personally, couldn't see how that was a) a bad thing, or b) a big deal. People were trying to kill mass-murdering terrorists? Oh my, what had the world come to. Yet Thor was practically in a panic and, as they were quickly informed, this was the first time any such attempts had been. And not really without reason; even Clint had grimaced when they were told the punishment for violent crime against someone in Loki's condition.

Would that normally have kept him from ratting the guy out? Nope, wouldn't even have had him pausing, but normally he wasn't being told to condemn someone who had basically attempted a public service.  
  
Explaining that to the Captain would have been moronic, or suicidal if Thor overheard, so of course he kept his knowledge to himself, told them all he had no idea. “I wasn't paying that close of attention, Cap. There were a lot of big sweaty guys beating each other up, it's not exactly new to me. Even if I was, I'd've had to be looking the guy dead on when he decided to toss the spear, and that's a low chance. There was a lot of action in that ring.”  
  
Repetitive, redundant; he'd said it at least three times, to each of Steve's  _are you_  sure _?s_ , and now he was beginning to get sick of it, even though that worry had turned to suspicion. Tony was too busy nursing a hangover to notice, Bruce had tactfully gone off to his room hours ago, and Natasha always knew, yet it was still a little strange to see Steve staring right through him. Not that it made a difference- Clint didn't care if they knew he was lying.  
  
“And you didn't get it from the angle? You can judge a shot with nothing but sound, I'm sure you could've seen who must have made the throw.”  
  
“Out of luck, Cap. There were three people close enough, minimum, who could've done it, and that's if they didn't move after throwing. I would've had to watch the weapon leave a hand.” He wouldn't let it bother him. He was just... thinking it through for now, and it wasn't as if any harm had actually been done. Sure, the tournament had dissolved, the festival had been subdued for its weak remainder, and Loki was in some sort of shock with his idiot of a brother doting over him, but that was all more or less inconsequential.   
  
Oh, and they'd almost been skewered by the King of the gods. Too bad he couldn't get that on a postcard.  
  
Odin's decision that Loki's two years of peace being broken must have something to do with the Avengers wasn't exactly a rare one- they were getting vicious looks wherever they went now, which was absolutely ridiculous. They had captured the god when he'd tried to conquer  _their_  planet, Asgard should be thanking them fom tossing them the wayward war-criminal in chains. Not looking at them like they were potential murderers, though not  _one_  of them had been in that pit (which Odin, at least, accepted, once he calmed enough to listen), just because people had finally gotten smart about dealing with Loki.   
  
Steve glared at him, and Clint detected a 'this is no laughing matter' coming his way, so rolled his eyes once or twice, warming them up for all the work they'd be doing during the inevitable lecture. Natasha, bless her soul, cut them both off simply by clearing her throat, arms folded and eyebrows lifted. “Captain, asking the same questions in different ways isn't going to change the answers. And Clint, you need to take this a little more seriously. Thor is terrified.”  
  
“And that means what, exactly? Hey, look on the bright side, maybe he'll realize it's not a good idea to let the fully grown man with severe brain damage wander around near sharp objects. Loki's alive, and they've got an all-seeing gatekeeper on the case as we speak.” Clint's only concern at the moment was sleeping off the gigantic, rich meal that had formed Thor's birthday feast, possibly by going into comatose for the next week or so. “And we'll be back home in what, ten days? Unless someone manages to kill Loki by then, we've got nothing to worry about.”  
  
He wasn't a bad guy, traditionally, but Steve looked at him now as if he'd just proposed they find the nearest orphanage and blow it to the ground. “Someone killing Loki  _is_ what I'm worried about. He's not the same person, Clint, and he hasn't done anything cruel to anybody. He's an innocent civilian, and as Avengers we should protect him. Especially if we might be the reason he's in danger.”

How did he  _care_? It burned Clint, down to the core, that Loki suddenly mattered so much, worse to see the pity he dragged out of even Natasha, after everything he'd done. Or not done, depending on how you looked at this. He had a half functional brain, no memories, and was apparently used to being adored and taken care of, when he should have been brewing in his madness, rotting away in prison with the full knowledge of why he deserved to be there. It would have been better  _for_ him.   
  
It was... bad. Conflicting emotions, hatred with no reasonable outlets- Clint didn't exactly enjoy it, no, he felt sick thinking of what had happened to Loki, but he couldn't stop being angry that he hadn't seen a proper punishment. A clean slate, in the most literal way. Only happened four times before, one of Thor's friends had explained over dinner, and not to be done lightly, but it was the only “treatment” in a case like Loki's.   
  
Bullshit.  
  
“I'm going to bed, Cap,” Clint said without answering, to neither of their outward surprise. He just... needed to think. “Thor wants to show us some magical waterfalls or something in the morning, and I'd prefer to have slept off this food baby by then. If you need me, I'll be in my room.”  
  
There, at least, he'd have access to a weapon. Not if Loki came for him, no (he was hardly a threat), but if one of the Asgardians deemed him a danger and went on to “protect” their Prince.   
  
These assholes really needed to work on their priorities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Ao3 was doing something weird with these notes where the ones from the first chapter kept popping up at the end? I apologize if anything else strange is going on. Please let me know if you spot a glitch or something!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to remind everyone again that I wrote this before seeing AoU, and haven't changed it in accordance with the movie. So certain characters and relationships don't exist. Thanks so much to everyone who's commented so far! I love reading what you have to say (and rambling in response, sorry). 
> 
> And as always, a reminder to please contact me if there's any material you'd rather avoid. I don't use warnings, but I'll give them individually.

What was the point of making him feel like this?

Clint didn't  _deserve_  to feel this damn guilty for hating the person who'd gotten into his head and ripped it open, who'd made him kill dozens of his colleagues and friends, who'd tried, hello, to  _take over the world_. The disapproval never went away; the days left of Thor's celebration were passing in vague discomfort for all involved, with a lecture at every turn from Cap, or whoever else had caught him shooting the younger of the gods a glare. Which... fine, maybe for that he felt a little badly. Thor wouldn't have another event like this for a hundred years and he deserved to enjoy it, but that didn't make it fair for Clint to have to put up with Loki, who definitely did  _not_  deserve a good time.

They should have just killed him. What, did they think he deserved some second chance? If he really would heal back into the man he'd been then his crimes still should have gotten him executed. If he wouldn't, then... fuck, they should have killed him anyway, even Clint knew it was wrong to rip a chunk out of somebody's mind because you didn't like who they'd become. And since that person was Loki, whose brain was a whirlwind of insanity even whole, he was undoubtedly only going to grow into something so much worse this time around.  
  
But they couldn't just kill him now, could they? He was about... god, two years old in the head? Literally a child in an adult body, which was painfully evident as he excitedly babbled away about the food on the table, demanding explanations from Thor and interrupting him mid-sentence to ask about the next. Tony had insisted on bringing Earth recipes for Asgard's cooks to play with, and the whole lot of them were absolutely obsessed with sushi. Watching a bunch of buff Viking gods go nuts over raw fish would have made his year if he hadn't had to sit ten feet away from Loki and watch him laughing, and enjoying himself, and being fucking coddled by every single member of the team that had been created to  _stop_  him.  
  
Natasha was keeping a hand on his knee beneath the table, even if she was giving Loki a few indulging smiles too. “It's going to be okay, Clint,” she muttered in his ear, sensing the way his arm shook, his fist clenched tighter than he'd thought it could be. “Shut him out.”  
  
“I'm trying.” Which he was, too, so they couldn't fault him completely. Across the way Loki was pointing urgently to a spicy tuna roll, demanding to know what it was like, taking one small bite and then jumping in his chair and diving for his mead as Thor guffawed beside him. A two year old drinking. Probably didn't matter, his body could take gallons of it, but still fucking weird. “I should go back home.”  
  
“We're here to improve relations with Asgard. If you leave, we'll have a realm full of offended gods on our hands, and Earth can't deal with that. You're trained for worse than this, Clint, so deal with it. If you want we can pretend you're drunk and get you out of here.”  
  
“Hell no.” Loki tended to go to sleep around five hours earlier than the rest of them- still healing, apparently, so he even slept with a child's hours- and once he was gone enjoying himself usually became a little easier. “I'll deal with it, okay? Now pass me the lobster rolls before Volstagg suffocates on them.”  
  
That part was purposefully loud enough to earn a great bellowing laugh from the man in question, and distract Clint for awhile with a sparked conversation. He was pretty popular with these guys (when he managed to talk without threatening their Prince) as all the Avengers were. Asgard could have been so _cool,_ god damn it. Luckily, as Clint had predicted, it was barely half an hour before Loki was yawning, and his constant demands for attention became subdued, tired grumpiness. The god was tugging at his elder brother's cape and whispering to him, impatient, complaining; Clint tried his hardest to ignore it, how god-damn entitled this little brat was-

Okay, Thor was chuckling softly and rubbing his head, his smile a lot softer than Clint thought was reasonable, but that meant Loki'd be out of the way soon, right? “Tired, brother?”  
  
“ _No._  I just... um, want to get back to my book.”  
  
“Sure you do. Pardon me, friends, I shall return shortly, and we may continue our merriment. Come, Loki-”  
  
“I'm not a baby, brother, I don't need you to walk me to bed!” Loki huffed, arms folded, pouting. God, Clint wished he  _weren't_  basically a baby, so he could punch away that look. “I'll be fine.”  
  
Thor clearly disagreed; his eyes were anxious, and his jaw tight, the hand that had caught the wayward spear curling tight around nothing. His lips were parted on a protest when another voice broke in, and finally Clint managed to tear his eyes and anger away, curious to watch who would intervene. “Ah, do not worry about the boy, Thor! It is your night to celebrate, after all. If it would comfort you, my lord, I can show him to his rooms.”  
  
Oh.  
  
Him.  
  
A warrior who had been introduced to them under the name Hallr, his hair a nearly matte-black tumble down his back in the thickest braid Clint had ever seen. He wasn't as beefy as Thor, nor as tall, but he had a sort of inlaid stockiness to him, and a variety of scars over what would probably be an otherwise handsome face. His armor, worn even now, was thick and personalized, the mark of a high officer, and his throwing arm was very, very good. Neither of the brothers seemed to sense anything amiss. Loki wanted to talk with a soldier he did not know and Thor was comforted by the man's loyalty and combat prowess enough to let him go.  
  
Clint stared. Openly, earning a kick beneath the table from his friend and a grunt of pain for the strength in it, attracting Hallr's attention enough for a glance. The man's eyes were shimmering, blue, and held to his own for a few moments, mouth splitting into a feral flash of a grin before he'd turned away, aiding Loki to his feet. “After you, my Prince. Shall you tell me about that book of yours, on the way?”  
  
Laughter, and Loki about-faced into an immediate blurb of plot, rattling off about some text that droned slowly into background noise as the pair left, Clint watching their backs long after all else had turned to petty chatter and excitement for the Midgardian meal.  _Tell them._  No, hell no, wasn't it better if something happened to him, if this guy had the balls to kill Loki then he would protect Asgard and Earth, not to mention do the god a favor, after what had been done to him. But he was just a kid, his voice was a whisper of familiar danger and his face a mask of the madness that had haunted Clint's dreams for two years but he was a _child_.  
  
This wasn't the same. Hallr would be known immediately for the fault if he killed Loki after publicly heading off with him. The attempt in the match had been more easily disguised- if you didn't have Clint's eye- and maybe seemed worth the risk, but now anyone with half a mind would know better, and the Aesir were more intelligent than they seemed. He'd be fine, and if he was a little shaken up, well, he deserved at least that much.  
  
How much could you punish someone for the same crime? Not much worse to be done than lobotomy as retribution. They'd destroyed his mind. He'd done that to him and just look at Selvig, he'd been driven half mad thanks to Loki; an eye for an eye.  
  
And then some, if Clint didn't do something about this.  
  
Ah, fuck, fine. He wasn't a monster and he wasn't going to let anyone else get away with being one either, no matter who to, so he rose, stretching hard with a yawn that seemed genuine enough, if you were drunk and didn't care enough to pay attention. Natasha, being neither, cast him a look of concern, and Clint brushed it off. “Later?”  
  
“All right. I'll give you an hour.” He didn't want her mixed up in this, or to make some big fuss, and her understanding of his state and discretion both were a blessing, here. Clint playfully endured the various taunts about his early retirement from the assembled- and shunted aside Cap's inquiries and concerns- on his way out, putting enough sway in his step that with any luck suspicion would be kept at bay.

Now, where to find them? It had been... ten, fifteen minutes since they'd left and Clint had no idea where Loki lived, but he knew where Thor did which meant the royal chambers, where the younger Prince likely had a place of his own. So off for that, then.   
  
Come on, feet, pick up the pace. Stupid morality, making him leave his dinner, stupid fucking anger, making him hate his morality, he didn't  _want_  to feel like this. Nobody liked being pissed off all the time, except for the internet, and he was getting tired of not letting himself be happy. Maybe if he did this, gave Loki a helping hand, he'd at least be able to shut up his guilt and find some peace for the rest of his time partying with the gods. It could have been such an awesome time, too.   
  
Turning around would be so easy; he was out, he could return to his chambers for real or dash back in and get himself too drunk to think for the next twelve hours. But that look Hallr had given him, almost conspiratorial... fuck. Time to keep going.  
  
The Asgardian culture wasn't one he had come to be too fond of in all, but their weapon fetish had allowed him the bow on his back despite Cap's complaints. So far it had been... well, reassuring, if not reasonable. He doubted he'd do much or any damage aside from annoyance with these things (plain arrows, his special designs confiscated successfully, damn it), but he could at least startle them or something. Just in case. He was going to just check in, make sure Loki wasn't going to die, and move on. If he was too late? Well. Shit. Thor would either never speak to them again, or actually kill him; probably legally too, under Asgard's bullshit laws. 

Thank a very different god, then, that he got there only minutes later. He slowed as soon as he picked up on voices echoing around corners in low whispers; they were talking, maybe with a little threatening, which was perfectly fine, for Hallr to put a little fear in the trickster. So long as that was the limit, he could just leave and- fuck, was that _crying_? Clint slipped up against the corner, bow silently coming to his hand, ear strained for sounds of danger or further distress. Definitely crying, a hitched sob lingering on a whimper, rapid little hiccups in some fight for control. “I- I don't-”  
  
“ _Quiet._  I told you, keep your voice down, you don't want to bother anyone else, do you?” Hallr spoke sternly, an almost administrative admonishment. “Now, go on.”  
  
“I don't  _want_  to,” Loki sobbed, but the noise choked off on a whine, obeying the order for silence. Or at least trying to, but his breath was so loud that it set Clint's teeth on edge.   
  
“Didn't the queen teach you to listen to those who know better? You do not disobey a soldier. I know what's best, trust me. Now,” he must have done something there, Loki gave a gasp and his crying grew more frantic behind a clear attempt to muffle it, Clint's grip on the blow straining at the sound, “Do what you are told.”  
  
He felt frozen, locked in place, trying to determine exactly what was happening without making himself sick in the process, but then Loki's whimpering was masked by the sound of a heavy clasp being undone and something  _snapped_.  
  
He planned the shot before he even had a sight on his target, and his judgment carried true. Hallr let out a shout of surprise as an arrowhead drove into the soft crook of his arm, and snatched it away in a rage- away from where his hand had been shoved beneath Loki's waistband.  
  
The second arrow went for Hallr's eye, forcing him to step hastily aside to avoid it, his confusion slowly dawning into fury. And then to a little something else, as Clint stretched his arm back, his line of fire straight toward the man's-  _monster's_ \- crotch, trying to ignore that his trousers were half down, shutting out Loki's open terror as the god shrunk back against the wall. “I can't kill you with one of these, and I probably can't stop you, either, but if you don't fucking run right now I'll make damn sure you can't put that thing to use ever again.”  
  
He should just shoot him anyway, god, he deserved it, so much worse, Loki had the mind of a toddler and he'd been trying to make him- He was going to fire out of pure rage when Hallr turned and ran, sprinting hard down the hall, probably not out of fear of him so much as Thor, what would happen to him if he didn't get out of Asgard somehow before the guards were alerted. Clint went to give chase, recalled Heimdall's piercing eye, and slowed his step. No, he'd be caught, wherever he went.

As much as he wanted to pummel the man into the ground he knew he wouldn't be capable, and Loki needed him first; a thought that was not as foreign as he wanted it to be. Fuck. He shouldn't have let them leave, he'd thought Loki might be a little shaken up, not that Hallr would try to  _rape_ him-  
  
He really was going to throw up at this rate. Loki had seemed to decide it was safe to move now; he was huddled away in the corner, drawn in on himself as tightly as he could be, and a few hesitant steps had him sobbing, a trembling hand flying up to cover the sound and tears.   
  
Oh, God. He was still trying to obey Ullr and stay quiet, even while his entire body shook with the force of his grief and fear. “Hey.” Obviously Loki responded to a firm hand and a little authority so Clint spoke strongly but not aggressively, and he kept his hands to himself, waiting until the god was watching him to continue. “If anybody tries to touch you, I don't care how, and you don't want them to, you don't have to listen to them, okay? You don't- it's not your fault or your responsibility or anything-"  
  
He was nodding, but he hardly seemed to be listening, face tight to hold back his tears; Clint gave up and simply fumbled, message unclear. After a moment he just opened his arms wide, and Loki fell in without a pause, grabbing tight at the cloth of his tunic with a gut-wrenching wail. “Okay, come here, it's okay.” No, hell no it wasn't, but Loki didn't need to hear that. Clint rubbed his hand in cautious circles against his back, coaxing a slow ease out of his breath, promising him that he'd be okay, he hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't long before Loki's howling and sobbing drew the attention of a squad of guards, swooping in to find Clint rocking their prince back and forth with soft assurances of safety, no differently than he would any terrified child. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the chapter that prompted all those warnings... If you read over on livejournal you'll notice I changed Ullr's name to Hallr, because the former has too many mythological ties and appears in enough fic that I was worried he'd have the feel of a premade character, and all things considered I was hoping to avoid that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer-than-usual delay on this one! Caught up with school things.
> 
> As always, if you have anything you need to avoid let me know either in the comments or on tumblr and I willt ell you whether or not it is present.

Thor’s rage had felled armies a hundred times, had devastated countless foes, and slain a thousand monsters. It had shaken entire realms with his storms and brought wars to their start and close over injuries upon his people. He was mighty, and his anger far mightier; few forces in the universe had stood against it in full and survived.

Now all that power and fury found him sitting quiet and calm atop a down comforter, arms wrapped gently around his baby brother. Beyond the window the skies reflected Thor’s mood more aptly; the rain was drenching the world outside, a thick blanket of dark water broken only by frequent cracks of thunder and lightning. He’d changed from his drenched armor (Loki found it exciting, but it made him nervous, too, and that could not be welcomed here) but his braid was still soaked and heavy against his back.

“Do you want me to stay here tonight?” Thor wondered with practically a whisper; it was painful, _tore_ at him, not to growl and shout, to let his hatred boom through his voice. His words might have trembled with the effort if he let himself be any louder, and Loki did not need that.

His eyes were red and puffy with tears, his face unevenly flushed- a level of dishevelment which he would never have allowed himself before- and his lips trembling with miserable tears as he nodded, weakly. Whimpered, and hid his face in his dog, Agnar’s, scruff. Thor had never been gladder they’d gotten him the beast, he hadn’t left his master’s lap since Loki had returned to his room. Gods, how much worse he would have been if he had to suffer alone, or if Hawkeye hadn’t found him-

The very thought nearly choked him, so Thor pressed a calming kiss to the top of Loki’s head and pulled him in closer. “Okay. I will be right here, then, all right?” No response, only a quiet trembling. “I can send for some hot tea, if you want.” He’d always loved that.

Another nod that was so small Thor felt but could not see it. Was Loki not to speak tonight? That was fine, whatever he wished, if it would help… _would_ it help? Should he be pressured to discuss what had happened, or at least to say anything? Perhaps it was not that Loki should speak, but Thor should not. Silence may suit him best.

Thor tried not to let his frustration show as he reached for the summoning tab by the bedside and sent out an order for Loki’s tea. He could not do anything to help his brother. Their parents had done him some good, only now they were giving Hallr a personal interrogation in his chains; Thor had thrown the man at their feet only to be told he could not remain for that, was too likely to lose himself and kill him. And he should. Damn a trial, damn what would come to him later, that he still _breathed_ after what he had done-

Not for long, he had to calm himself with that knowledge. When Loki and Clint had been brought to his room by an entire troupe of guards, his brother in tears and the archer nearly ashen white, Thor had assumed his friend to blame for some assault. He had almost hoped it after he heard the truth, wanted anything else to have come to pass, anything but that he had sent his brother off with a man who would _violate_ him. He had been in shock, a rage, and yet when he turned to Loki (both of them trembling with what had passed) and seen him nod he had not hesitated.

Thor had set the world ablaze with storm, and it had found Hallr for him, drawn him to the coward’s hiding spot. Only knowing, somewhere, that what would come after his trial would be far worse than anything he could give had stopped Thor before his blows could kill, and still there was little unbroken about the beast when they finally put him to a cell. He had attempted rape, of a Prince, a _child_. Yes, killing him then would have been a mercy he did not deserve, considering the punishment to come.

But all the pain in the world would not erase what had happened (and nearly happened too; gods, the debt he owed Clint was greater than a thousand years could serve). Was this the first time something like this had been done to Loki? Hallr may have assaulted others. He was near an age with them, physically, but it was not impossible that he could have forced Loki ( _the_ Loki, however much Thor tried to break that divide) in the past. And he would never have mentioned it; his brave, hurting little brother, always suffering in silence until he could not bear it any longer, and all the realms shook with his screams.

It was not likely they would ever know. Many of Loki’s memories would return as he healed, yet the old and the fragile would be lost, with luck this with them, and they could never know if Hallr truly told all.

Two soft knocks at the door- the servant had come with tea. The door was locked, at Loki’s desperate insistence, so Thor was forced to leave his side just a moment to go and take it. When Loki saw the servant- visible only for a heartbeat, the door barely open an inch- he gave a sob strangled with a whimper, breaking Thor’s heart as he hid his face in Agnar’s fur.

The dog let out an impressive series of protective barks, settling to a mere growl only after Thor had slammed the door and the servant’s face vanished. He bore no armor, no threat, no resemblance at all to Hallr. “Loki, Loki,” Thor whispered, hastily setting aside the tea as he swept him back into his arms. “You are safe, see? I am right here, and nothing will harm you while I am around. Okay?”

“’m sorry,” Loki sniffed, turning tear-bright eyes up to Thor. They were still so clean, so empty; the blank space of over a thousand years waiting to be reformed. There was never supposed to be this much pain in those eyes again. “I d-didn’t-“

“It doesn’t matter. You have done nothing wrong, do not _ever_ let him make him think you have.” Thor wondered how much that could get through, if it would do any good to say. He didn’t know how to do this, how to help, what Loki needed from him.

He had responded with similar terror to everyone but his family and Clint, man or woman. At first Thor’s friends had tried to be there, to help, until someone came a foot too close.

Remembering Loki’s scream, his panicked attempt to flee, was still enough to sicken him. They were alone now, that was much better; the night was bursting, and his head could hardly keep up with it all, it must have been so much worse for Loki… He wanted to _break_ , to shatter everything that had ever caused his brother fear.

“He s-said-“ Thor froze at his voice, listened urgently. Whatever he said, anything if he needed to speak, or not, or… “He’s a soldier, he said m-mother would be angry if I d-didn’t- I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”

He was crying again, curled up in Thor’s grasp and looked to him, pitifully pleading. “You _didn’t._ You are not to blame for anything. _Hallr_ is wrong, and if anything like that ever happens again know that you are more than free to defend yourself. That is what your knives are for, remember?”

It was so hard not to roar his hatred, or shake with disgust. The clearer his upset was the more it would shake Loki; his voice resonated with a quiet calm he did not feel, his hands that ached to harm rubbing soft circles in his back. Slowly, painfully, Loki’s breath calmed, and Agnar nudged urgently at his master’s face, licking away traces of tears.

“But I’m supposed to listen. You always said- the soldiers are supposed to _help_ me.”

The betrayal did not seem to have registered; Loki seemed only lost, choked on confusion and hurt. “They are supposed to. That man does not deserve to be called a soldier, and he never shall be again, but he may not be the only one who… does not act as he should. Your safety comes before anything else, okay? Even if I or father or mother tells you to do anything that will hurt you then you just ignore it, fight back, or get help.”

“Why would you do that?”

“We won’t. But if it ever happens- maybe we make a mistake- just promise me you will remember.”

“No. You won’t hurt me.”

“Please, Loki?” Loki squirmed uncomfortably in his arms and evaded the question by diving for his tea, taking a few tentative sips from the steaming mug. “Saying it doesn’t mean anything will happen, I swear. None of us will _ever_ do you harm. Just humor me.”

“Okay. I will.”

“Thank you.” Thor brushed the wild strands of hair from Loki’s forehead and replaced them with a kiss. “Think you can go to sleep? I won’t go away. You are doing very well, you know.”

“I’m scared,” he whispered, like he was afraid to admit it. “And _tired_.”

Again his voice choked, so Thor hastily soothed him with a hand through the hair, a few soft words until his whimpering and tears had dried, for the moment. “How about I hold you until you are asleep? That way you will know you are safe.” A bark at his side, so loud Thor almost winced but Loki smiled softly. “And of course Agnar will lay immediate waste to the first threat to walk through that door. There is no wrath like a puppy scorned, you know.”

Loki, like any child, had a sort of giggling laugh to call his own, and it was a relief to hear it now (even with a hiccup and all its undercurrents of fear). “Kay. Can you tell me a story?”

“Sure.” Something safe, something sweet, something that did not feature Loki or he would know far too much… It was hard to find one, but eventually Thor decided on something that featured Clint, and his brother’s eyes lit up in relief at his name, listening devotedly as he spoke on.

-

Natasha had seen her team shaken before, but this was something new. Thor’s local friends, the warriors three and Sif, were doing well enough as far as she could tell, and one of them had unfortunately retained his fondness for his own voice. They were bearing it as well as they could. Nobody seemed on the breaking point, so she let Volstagg continue on with his rambling, watching closely for the tells she had memorized that said one of them was about to snap.

“-newly enlisted, why, I’d rarely seen a more eager recruit, had the books down to the letter-“ Perfect soldier, perfect man. Those two didn’t go together as often as people liked to think. “The Allfather should really just let the man free. Best punishment he’d get, if I had my hands on him-“

For once his tendency to exaggerate was positive, at least. Clint had been a breath away from his breaking point for a second there, now he looked almost relaxed as he listened to Volstagg’s visceral tales. She’d never have imagined him so fixated on Loki’s protection again; never have wanted it, though her friend looked like he would have preferred being controlled again to this.

They couldn’t stay here. Natasha didn’t know if the others had realized it yet, but there was going to be nothing good from remaining in Asgard. She’d seen them claw at each other’s throats too often to assume they could survive all this just because they had a few years under their belts, and Thor… Even a god could only take so much. He’d get his head on straight in private, and Earth could be his escape again, while Loki would hardly notice their absence after half a week.

By the time he was healed enough that they might really be remembered, they’d all be long dead anyway.

Volstagg’s tales had traveled from pummeling Hallr to Loki himself, _before_ , and were now petering back out in unwelcome territory. “Remember that last one? Little girl, a hundred years ago, give or take. She was older than he is, now. We all helped deal with the father ourselves, but what are they going to do about Loki? They’d kill him now if they tried it again. He’s not too likely to remember any of it, but if he does we could have another Ear-“

“You done?” Steve did it more gently than any of them might have, so Natasha hadn’t bothered to stem _that_ tide. Cap wasn’t looking too hot, better than most.

None of Volstagg’s friends seemed offended on his behalf as the man simply shrugged and nodded, fell quiet half a second before rattling off some tale about Thor, and how the last time he’d been _this_ angry he’d put a dragon’s head through the castle. For once, Natasha believed him.

“So much for ‘safe and comfortable’, huh?” Tony wondered suddenly. Sitting, drumming his fingers and turning around, so agitated it almost went without saying. He had never been a fan of other people’s moral quandaries. “No, you know, he had a good point, I wanna get back to that. How do you come back from this? Loki was a case and a half already, then you cut him up, now sexual assault? What’s- what is the end game here, who are you hoping to salvage down in there? ‘Cause I’m not seeing him.”

“You won’t,” Sif assured. “You cannot _salvage_ something that is gone. Loki is not broken, he is changed.”

“Brain’s a brain. This one’s been… played with too much.”

“Shut up, Stark,” Clint said simply. “He knows when you go on like that, you know? He’s trying, give him a fuckin’ break.”

“ _I’m_ not- Really, with the yelling at _me_? I’m just trying to figure out what to do here!”

 Natasha’s eyes flew to Clint’s back and decided to let it go; he was handling it, and Tony was more likely to cry than shout if this kept up. Thankfully far enough from either. “Yeah. Well.”

Silence. Everyone was looking inward, as though the center of this could somehow pull out a pretty solution at their convenience.

Naïve, that’s what she was. Why had she thought that Asgard would be above things like this? Just because they claimed to be advanced didn’t mean they didn’t produce monsters; they had seen that two years ago. But that was a different sort of sick. She didn’t need anybody to prove to her that there would always be those who wanted to kill, and crush the so-called weak under their heels. It had been foolish to hope there could ever not be people who would find themselves addicted to another kind of power.

Funny that it was Loki who had taught her just how exposed she still was, that a few words could still shake her. (Even lying through her teeth, she’d had to get out of there, she’d taken the first word he’d given her that could let her leave and gone- right into his scepter and his trap. Clever little shit.) The one that had formed them all from the beginning. That had reached to their cores and ripped them apart. Split the sky open for everyone to see.

Natasha had never intended to get him back for all that. Loki’d had too many masks for anything solid to exist underneath, she’d been wholly convinced there _was_ nothing to reveal.

Now he was unable to hide and broken on top of it, a sickeningly thorough job at unwelcome revenge.

She didn’t hear him coming but Natasha saw his friends go alert and knew Thor was on his way; seconds later the door creaked open, as expected, and he slipped silently through. Moving quietly as he was capable, so Loki must have fallen asleep at last.

“He is resting,” Thor confirmed, needlessly. “I would rather not leave him, but I thought it better we speak now than while he is awake.”

“Probably for the best. I’m just going to say it- I think we should be gone before morning.” No protest? That wasn’t entirely… expected. “It might be better if he doesn’t see us again before we leave. Let it slip his mind.”

“That may be for the best,” Thor sighed. “Yet I would not dream of asking you to leave Asgard, my friends.”

“We’ll get out of your hair, Thor. Nat’s right- we’re only getting in your way here, and Earth could probably use us back by now. And we could use you, whenever you’ve got the time to spare, but we’re not so helpless that you have to leave him behind either,” Cap intervened. Thor, and really she couldn’t blame him, seemed more relieved by his assurances than hers. “Bruce’s already gone back, and I really don’t want to know what’ll happen if Doom attacks the tower while he’s alone in there. Don’t worry about it.”

Sif seemed almost offended; that Thor might have worried for a second that his friends from Asgard weren’t quite enough, or that they were so eager to leave? “The celebration has not ended. And… I do believe Barton’s presence could be helpful.”

“Nah.” Clint stared up at the ceiling as he shrugged, pretending some part of him didn’t ache at that. “He’ll feel better, sure, but being near me’d just make him think about it.”

When Thor nodded it was slow, as if weighed down by pure distress if you couldn’t taste the sharpness in the air. When the big guy was so mad that he could barely move and she got lightning on her tongue, Nat knew it was time to move on. Bruce wasn’t the only one with a temper worth taming. “We didn’t bring too much- we’re practical that way. Once the weather’s settled we’ll be on our way… so take a deep breath, okay? I’m not the poster child for “careful” but I don’t like the look of that bridge in a storm.”

“Oh? Yes. Of course.” Thor glanced out the window and laughed, so hollow that she would almost have pitied him if she respected him any less. “You may indeed have to wait ‘til morning, in that case. I do not think I can…”

He let out a long noise that even she couldn’t decipher- but there were people here who knew Thor better than them, and one of them stepped forward to place her guiding hand on his forearm. “You will not do any harm, Thor, you are as good as you are ‘mighty’. Remember that,” Sif declared; not in a whisper between them, but a bold word to them all. They may not have believed it after first seeing Loki, not until they had come here and felt his devotion. Sif seemed satisfied with their silence, enough to take Thor’s hand in her own. “Warriors of Midgard, you may prepare for your departure within the hour. Come, Thor, with me. All will be well.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel kind of bad about skipping Bruce's PoV and giving a moment to everyone else, sorry Bruce. Also, this may be the last chapter to feature the Avengers directly, as there will probably be a skip ahead soon. Maybe... two chapters left, if I don't fit it all in the next.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this goes without saying, but just in case I will add that neither I nor this fic in any way condone practices like lobotomy, and certainly don't condone forcing them on an unwilling "patient".


End file.
